


In Another Life

by marimoes



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, Marine Rosinante, Mention of Death, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22470253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marimoes/pseuds/marimoes
Summary: What if Rosinante had succeeded? What if everything went according to plan and he was able to bring Doflamingo in?
Relationships: Donquixote Doflamingo & Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante
Comments: 10
Kudos: 130





	In Another Life

Soft, distant sounds of steps come from Doflamingo’s right. His eyes open slowly beneath the shade of his rose-colored lenses, ones that he’s grateful they let him keep. The government is a lot of things, but it seems that they aren’t so barbaric that they would deny him a basic request. The sound of the footsteps start to echo louder against the stone walls, and he lifts his head. 

After all, he was always taught it’s rude to not greet guests. 

From around the corner comes a man that is almost as tall as Doflamingo is himself, and with a piercing recognition he realizes just who it is. The man tugs a small chair away from the wall and drags it against the ground, leaving it to rest a few feet from the cell bars that house Doflamingo. Wood on stone has never been a good sound to his ears. It reminds him too much of the sounds from the bed that Mama died in all those years ago. As she shook with coughs, the bed did as well against the cobblestone floor. 

Reminds him of the walls of the tower as well. 

It all should remind them both: he and his visitor. Thing is, Doflamingo isn’t sure he knows the man sitting in front of him with legs widely crossed. His ankle now tucked against his knee in a way that mirrors his usual posture, and it’s almost enough to make him close his eyes. Almost.

A muffled click of a lighter snaps open, followed by the flick of a thumb to ignite it, and the soft searing of the end of a fresh cigarette. For years, these were the only sounds Doflamingo knew him by. The only things he had to hold onto him with were arbitrary sounds, when really —

“Doffy.” 

Doflamingo’s arms pull at the chains that hold him against the wall, and their clatter seem to be enough of an answer as an exhale of smoke dances through the bars. Can he even talk to him? Dare utter words to the man who landed him here? His own blood?

“Rosi,” Doflamingo replies, throat croaking from words unsaid the entire time he’s been down here. ‘Uncharacteristically quiet’ they called him earlier today. Little did they know he was just waiting for the perfect audience. A play put on for a party of one. “You son of a bitch.” 

Rosinante pulls in another drag of his cigarette and leans back against his chair. No longer does the black feathered coat hang on his shoulders. Instead it is replaced by a stark opposite; white, pristine, and the symbol of everything they were supposed to hate. So many things that he thought he knew — what a joke that is now. A short laugh even manages to escape his lips at the thought. 

“Come, Doffy. Surely you always knew this was a possibility,” Rosinante says, voice that low tenor Doflamingo is still struggling to decide on. Does he hate the sound of the traitor that turned him in to the marines? Or does he hold onto the sound of his younger brother that he's dreamt about hearing for years?

Again, Doflamingo laughs. This time it's the deep hearty chuckle that always seems to send chills up the spines of the people around him, but he knows that it doesn’t have that effect on Rosi. Not a lot of things do, apparently. Along with Doflamingo's screams, his laugh also keeps a neutral expression on his brother’s face. 

“No. How foolish to ever think I could be captured at all, but ah, here I am anyways. We were both wrong. Hm, _brother?_ ” Doflamingo muses and lets his head drop to rest on his chest. No use expending the energy now. Not for someone like this. 

“We were,” Rosinante sighs, blowing smoke gently from his mouth like fog that blankets the ocean. There is sadness hanging in his tone. A warble of something that Doflamingo hasn’t heard in years, and it’s enough for him to look up and peer over the edge of his lenses. 

He watches then, just as he did some weeks ago, as his brother holds up his hand. From it comes a glimmer of light before it vanishes entirely, but even cuffed in seastone Doflamingo can focus on it. He can feel the paper-thin weight that now sits on his shoulders, and a smirk pulls tight at his face. 

“These powers of yours. What is your fruit?” Doflamingo asks and struggles to right himself against the wall. The stone is cold against his shoulders as they readjust, and it forces focus to his weakened mind. If he’s pulling this out, there must be something else than just an ordinary visit planned in the back of Rosinante’s mind. 

“I am a silent human, thanks to the powers of the nagi nagi no mi. Right now, no one can hear anything between us. No monitor can pick it up. So please, Doffy, tell me —” Rosinante first calmly explains, but his words raise into a clear command. One that shows more of his military colors than the coat on his shoulders ever could. “Tell me what you gained by taking father’s head back. Tell me what leveling cities made right. Tell me that which I’ve failed to figure out all these years.” 

He’s leaned forward, hand shaking around the cigarette burning between his fingers, and again Doflamingo smiles. Here it is. The brother he knew all those years ago, clinging and afraid of the unknown. Here he is trying to play brave once again. 

“Rosi...we have all the time in the world. _Stay. Chat._ Tell me why you betrayed me,” Doflamingo says, nonchalance coloring his tone. If his hands were free, he would surely let one float in the air between them before tucking it under his chin. 

The chair grinds against the ground as Rosinante stands abruptly, and his cigarette fails to sizzle at all when he drops it to stamp out beneath his foot. His hands curl around the bars of the cell, with knuckles now white with pressure. Anger cannot describe the emotion that is currently painting Rosinante’s face. 

“I gained nothing. It made me stronger. The answers to the questions you seek are not hard, Rosi. You always did like making a fuss over nothing. Such a tearful child you always were,” Doflamingo laughs and lets his foot tap gently. The memories of tears pouring from the mop that covered his brother’s eyes are ones he hasn’t drawn upon for years now. Funny how things work. 

“You were a huge threat and needed to be taken out before you could grow larger. It seems our questions aren’t so difficult after all,” Rosinante says, teeth struggling not to clench around the words. When he backs away from the bars, he breathes in deep and forces it back out slowly. “I saved the kids.” 

“I wouldn’t call the government’s care 'safe'. How will they know what Buffalo needs? Do they know to be careful with Baby?” Doflamingo huffs and against better thought, his mind swarms with unanswered questions about those left behind. Everything rapidly conjuring until a single thought slams to the forefront. “What of Law?” 

“What _of_ Law?” Rosinante snaps stepping forward again. His nose is pressed between the bars with nostrils that flare in time with his heaving chest. 

“That poor child of the city your people burned. You already stole him months ago, and I assume you have him locked up as well? He’s only thirteen, Rosi. You think _I’m_ the monster?” Doflamingo barks out, arms tugging against the wall with each anger driven word. “OR HAVE YOU ALREADY KILLED HI-” 

“I SAVED THAT BOY.” Rosinante yells back, and the metal of the cell starts to groan as he presses against it. “ _He was going to die, and I saved him._ Don’t you dare say ‘ _your people_ ’. _We_ are a people, Doflamingo.” 

“We are _nothing_. We stopped being anything more than the dirt that rests on this earth the moment father took our chips. I went out and made myself something new and you did the same. These are the choices we made, _Rosinante_. Now, we must live with them,” Doflamingo declares and drops his head back against the wall. His statements are simple truths, nothing more. 

Silence again falls between them as their words sink in. How different they are now than they were all those years ago — or even months, really. ‘Family’ no longer connects them anymore, only blood, and somehow that’s worse. Doflamingo wants to ignore the feeling in his chest after hearing his younger brother yell at him, but he’s not strong enough right now. 

So it sits, rising and falling along with his breathing until Rosinante speaks again, “You won’t.” 

“I won’t?” Doflamingo asks, squinting eyes still set at the ceiling. “I won’t, what?” 

Rosinante sighs and lets his head fall. It presses against the bars, and a nest of golden curls poke through against the dark of seastone. Doflamingo quietly looks down and regrets it almost instantly. Rosinante’s hair always did look like father’s. A halo of silk that would stick up in the morning after a night of restful sleep. 

Doflamingo kept his short for a reason. 

“You won’t live, Doffy. It’s why I’m here,” Rosinante says quietly and his swallow is audible. “They’re moving you down to six tomorrow. From there you’ll likely be executed in no more than a month. Once you’re down there, I won’t be able to see you until that day comes.” 

The air goes stale between the men. It’s cold and musty, breathed in through ragged lungs as the words fall over them both. Level six. Scheduled execution. No. 

“No,” Doflamingo argues, shaking his head with stuttered laughter. “They can’t kill me. I know something that they need. I know about the—”

“I too know it, Doffy. I’m telling you this is it,” Rosinante interrupts and looks up once more. Tears hang in the corners of his eyes for just a moment before being blinked away, and he again adjusts to stand tall.The edge of his coat barely grazes the floor before moving again as the ever present veil around him. “You are set to die.” 

“I’d like to see them try,” Doflamingo says, smile twitching a little harder at the corners of his mouth. Rosinante again steps back from the bars and with him draws his power back. Things again clatter and echo down the halls and Doflamingo laughs, “And I suppose I will.”

Rosinante’s hand again wraps tightly around his lighter. He flips it open and flicks his thumb down to ignite it, but no flame appears. Only the soft _click, click, click_ of disappointment comes from it, and he tucks it away in his pocket once more. 

“Goodbye, Doflamingo.” The words are said like a promise, and with them Rosinante turns back from which he came and begins to walk. He does not stumble forward. He does not falter at all. Nor has he the entire encounter, Doflamingo realizes, and for the first time he gets a chill. 

“Goodbye, Rosinante.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses except that I love the idea of Marine Rosinante, and that this situation made for an interesting dynamic. 
> 
> Twitter: @__moes__  
> Tumblr: @noswordstyle


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